A Mortal Fate
by emrysmile
Summary: Camelot is in danger from an unspeakable evil. Avalon’s Enforcers are their only chance now; Camelot’s only chance for freedom, Uther’s only chance for repentance, and Arthur’s only chance for his destiny. Chapters 4-7 are belatedly up!
1. Chapter 1

**Synopsis:** Camelot is in danger from an unspeakable evil and Merlin never lived to find his prince. Avalon's Enforcers is their only chance now; Camelot's only chance for freedom, Uther's only chance for repentance, and Arthur's only chance for his destiny.

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin

**Chapter Rating:** PG

**Story Rating:** R

**Word Count:** 1096

**WARNINGS:** A LOT of death and violence in this one. You were forewarned.

**Special Notices:** Inspired by 'A Bad Dream' by Keane, and 'Guardian Angel' by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. Also HUUUUUGE thanks to Chloe for more or less co-writing this story. She is amazing! XD

**Disclaimer:**I don't own Merlin, but I do own some maracas. Wanna see?! …you don't. *sigh* Fine, just read the fic, courtesy of Auntie Beeb…

* * *

**Chapter One  
****The Hero's Death**

"_Heaven is the creation of humans, and so inevitably it is imperfect." – Me._

Merlin Emrys died on his fifth birthday.

The icy hands of winter had wrapped ruthlessly around his tiny village, holding tight until the very land choked. Previously strong emerald green plants withered and died without caution, and furious winds howled down through the cracks in aging thatches roofs. Already a tiny slip of a boy, Merlin felt the cold quickly soak into his bones, freezing his blood in his veins. Desperately Hunith tried to push some of her food onto her tiny son's plate – like any good mother would – but without fail the food would return to her plate every night untouched.

Only one week into the harsh winter, Merlin was wheezing and crying with illness. Wracking coughs made his tiny body convulse wildly and his skin burned with the intensity of the baker's oven and the village bonfire combined and so much more. Every day his mother sat with him, stroking blessedly cool fingers through his tangled sweaty hair as he shook with fever. He hated it when she cried.

Twelve days into that fateful winter, on the twelfth of November, barely reaching the tender age of five, Merlin Emrys took his last shuddering breath and died in the arms of his grieving mother.

* * *

"Oi, Emrys! Get your skinny arse over here and hug me you git!" Wide grin spreading over his pale face Merlin leapt to his feet in a flurry of wild limbs and tousled wings, practically tackling Lancelot in his excitement. Lance had been sent away on a guardian mission and it had simply been too long for the best friends to be apart.

The instant Merlin released Lance (who greedily drew in great gulps of air) he barraged him with questions about Earth, eager to know all about his old home. Silent tears slipped over his cheeks when he heard his mother was still mournful for him but Lance didn't make a fuss as Merlin swiped the wet trails away. Lance had then graciously changed the subject, telling him all about the pranks he had pulled against unwitting mortals and Merlin had chortled happily, already scheming on how to one-up Lance when he would visit Earth. Finally conversation turned to the newest assignment, Merlin's _first _assignment to be precise.

"So, you nervous short-fry?" Merlin scowled up at Lance, who took any opportunity to gloat about the _two inches _height difference between them. But soon his mind revolved back to the question and his stomach roiled with nervous butterflies that flitted restlessly. Watching Merlin tug on the already frayed ends of his white sleeves Lance could see just how scared he was. It was only fair. Poor Merlin, powerful sorcerer and natural conundrum to all of Avalon, was being thrown in the deep end without mercy.

Gently squeezing a bony shoulder Lance reassured Merlin he would be fine, "Don't forget, I'll be there to save your scrawny arse!", but the truth shone through Merlin's eyes. The pressure was settling in and the anticipation of being so close to Earth again was almost too much to bear. Smiling weakly at Lance Merlin raised his wings and followed the twisting currents and recited every spell he knew for the umpteenth time, knowing that on this mission his magic could be the difference between life and death. Because whoever said angels couldn't die was a damn fool.

* * *

The morning of the assignment dawned all too soon and Merlin hadn't slept for even a second. His night had been filled with drooping eyes and murmured spells, cramming every last useful fact he could into his over packed brain. Now gliding to the meeting place his wings felt like lead and his golden eyes stung against the usually soothing rush of air.

Landing on shaky feet Merlin stumbled over to Lancelot who half-smiled knowingly and let the shorter angel lean against him. The scorching sun warmed the soft green grass beneath his bare feet, the tarmac paths much too hot this time of year, and Merlin smiled. Avalon was so different from what he had expected – no angels playing ridiculously fruity lute music as they lounged on fluffy white clouds, heck, no one even had a halo! He was sad to leave, even if he did get to return to Earth.

Before he could become too engulfed in his own rather depressive thoughts, the General strode into the room. The General was unusually burly for an angel, unkempt I appearance because of his rough stubble and the scars littering his body, but his personality was disciplined and graceful; a true oxymoron.

Merlin copied the other angel's as they snapped to attention. They were all Enforcers, trained to keep peace and – when necessary – protect Avalon and other worlds against threats. But Merlin had no clue. The men around him were experienced and world-hardened; Merlin was still learning how to spin in circles without his wings shooting him up like a bottle-rocket.

"You are being sent on one of the most dangerous missions seen in Avalon history. There is little I can say that could prepare you for what you will face, so just remember your training; stay alert, work as a team, and keep your head." Merlin paled, a sickly green colour tinting the natural glow that emanated from every angel in Avalon. If this was the General's idea of a pep-talk he couldn't imagine what a fully blown tongue-lashing from the man would be like.

The Enforcers saluted respectfully by pressing three splayed fingers against their left shoulders and made to march off to their mission.

"Emrys!" Halting in his tracks Merlin threw a quick nod at Lance, reassuring him that he would catch up, before he turned back the General.

"Yes sir?"

"I know this is your first mission kid, and I didn't want to send you down there. But if anyone needs to keep their wits about them it's you Emrys. If you die this mission will fail." _So no pressure at all, right? _Thought Merlin with a mental roll of his eyes. The General was right though, and Merlin did not take this lightly.

"Understood sir."

"Good lad." With a last friendly pat on the shoulder the General let him march after his fellow Enforcers. A large gaping hole in the middle of the floor was his destination and breathing deeply he plunged down into the abyss, cool air rushing against the feathers of his wings, and a small part of him prayed that his descent would never end.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author:** Georgia (Merlin'sGeekyFan)

**Synopsis:** Camelot is in danger from an unspeakable evil and Merlin never lived to find his prince. Avalon's Enforcers is their only chance now; Camelot's only chance for freedom, Uther's only chance for repentance, and Arthur's only chance for his destiny.

**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin

**Chapter Rating:** R

**Story Rating:** R

**Word Count:** 1116

**Special Notices:** Inspired by 'A Bad Dream' by Keane. Also HUUUUUGE thanks to draig_glas for more or less co-writing this story. She is amazing! XD

**Disclaimer:**I don't own Merlin, but I do own some maracas. Wanna see?! …you don't. *sigh* Fine, just read the fic, courtesy of Auntie Beeb…

* * *

**Chapter Two  
****Death Brings Death's Life**

"_Blood is the epitome of death and so we cannot live without it." - Me_

The Second Purge began without caution. Arthur shuddered with blurry memories of the first, it had started only hours after his birth and the stench of burning flesh and rotting bodies wouldn't leave Camelot until five years later. Now the vicious cycle was starting all over again; a magical assault on Arthur's life had nearly succeeded, leaving him only inches from death before Gaius snatched him back from the black grip of the afterlife. Enraged, Uther had ordered the pyres to be built and the axes to be sharpened.

Too soon the sorcerers hidden away in the cracks and crevasses of Camelot were dragged forth to face their own mortality. The sight of children crying for their mothers as their skin burned to ashes would never leave Arthur. They were quickly running out of pikes for the severed heads, and so these too were thrown onto the bonfires at the feet of writhing warlocks.

Late at night the large pyres were still burning, twisted charcoal frames of once human bodies casting eerie silhouettes within the flames. Arthur watched the crimson rivers running along the cobbles and knew he wouldn't sleep tonight…

***-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-***

Merlin landed none too gracefully, dirt and slick mud streaking along his wings as they cushioned his fall. Peeking up through the small cloud of dust that had billowed up after his impact, Merlin smiled at Lancelot and accepted his outstretched hand. Hauling up to his feet Merlin felt his smile dissipate swiftly. Except for the white glows of his fellow angels – nine in total including Lance and himself – there was nothing but blackness. Thick impenetrable dark that squeezed around his lungs and sent cold shivers racing down his spine.

Following Lancelot deeper into the lightless cavern Merlin desperately ignored the rancid stench of death that invaded his nostrils and tried not to think of the crunches and squelching sounds that met his footfalls. As the putrid smell threatened to overwhelm Merlin's senses they reached their destination. An impossible red shadow fell over a misshapen lump of a creature, small as a newborn baby and just as feeble. The scarlet shadow was – if anything – darker than the thick black nothing that surrounded them.

All in all, it was surprisingly anti-climactic.

A dark skinned angel – Jeremy - nodded to Merlin who raised his hands in reply. The other angels fluttered quickly away, leaving a wide-berth around the two. Inhaling deep and slow Jeremy unsheathed a gleaming silver sword which quickly flashed gold as Merlin's magic seeped into it, aiding the weapon. The sword swished down, cutting through the thick air to land on the misshapen lump. It had barely connected to the thing's scaly skin when Jeremy was blasted back against an unseen wall, blood from his fractured skull blotted along his delicate wings and back. Merlin felt a blow to the gut and quickly retreated away from the creature, watching in horror as the once bright pure white glow that surrounded Jeremy faded away, joining the blackness around them.

No one had expected that. Suddenly this infant-sized lump was much more intimidating. Banding together the angels plotted new strategies to defeat the creature, each bravely taking on the challenge and each failing. Soon Lance and Merlin were alone and when Lance decided he would try to stop the rapidly-growing creature Merlin became distraught. No, not Lance, no way! Merlin wouldn't let him die!

Blazing arguments echoed around the cavern for hours, "You can't just leave me here, I wont help you kill yourself!", "We were sent here for this, we have to stop that beast!". In the end their arguments were futile. While Merlin slept and Lance kept watch the darker-skinned angel murmured an unheard apology before wielding his sword and charging the creature. He never even made contact before his blood was splattered against the already ruby-stained walls.

Merlin woke, hopeless, alone, and praying for his own end.

***-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-***

Merlin watched the steadily dripping blood splash rhythmically against the now lion-sized creature's burgundy scales. The perpetual drips had started not long after Lance had foolishly sacrificed himself and showed no signs of stopping. With every drop the creature grew stronger but at the same time it was kept pinned to the spot, unable to move out of the nourishing spray of red, saving Merlin from its wrath. He wondered how long this delicate balance could last.

It was slowly driving Merlin to madness.

Three days had passed since he had arrived and every day the creature seemed to double in size. Merlin never tried to fight it. Some of Avalon's greatest Enforcers had fallen to this creature, this beast. He wouldn't last a second against it. And so he counted away the days in this lightless prison, listened to the ceaseless dripping of spilt blood, and restrained the increasingly hot-tempered violent beast with his magic. It was not a solution, but it was his only choice.

Sleep was tricky. He had to wait for the flow of blood to slow (never stop, just delay slightly) before he could curl up on the gritty cavern floor, hoping he would wake first ready to hold back this monster for another day rather than join his fallen comrades as a smudge against an impossible to see wall.

Tonight slumber was even more difficult than usual. When Merlin would escape into the blissful world of dreams he would see Avalon and his friends would be alive and well. It left a bittersweet taste on his tongue when he would wake, but at least for a few merciful hours every night he wouldn't have to live this nightmare. Not tonight. Tonight he dreamt of roaring bonfires, agonized faces twisting in pain and horror as the skin was burned from their bones. He dreamt of swishing metal and rolling heads, some too small to bear. He dreamt of bloody torrents winding down cobbled streets that mingled with the fallen tears of a blond haired stranger. And he knew this was no dream. This was real, this was The Second Purge of Camelot, and it needed to end.

Reaching out with desperation Merlin clung onto the strong reassuring spirit of the blond haired man falling into his nightly dreams. Not caring what dream he may have interrupted Merlin rushed to the blond haired man, grasping him by his shoulders and staring straight into his eyes, gold and blue meeting in a flash. Words spilled from Merlin's lips without a thought, "_End the purge or Camelot is doomed! You must hurry!" and_ tension sparked to life in the man's shoulders. He wanted to stay in the comforting warm aura of this stranger, to answer the questions he could vaguely here spilling from the blonde's lips, but far off in the dusty corners of his mind Merlin knew the beast was soon to wake. Loathe to leave this man but knowing he must Merlin whispered a broken goodbye and forced himself to wake and face his living nightmare all over again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author:** Georgia (Merlin'sGeekyFan)  
**Synopsis:** Camelot is in danger from an unspeakable evil and Merlin never lived to find his prince. Avalon's Enforcers is their only chance now; Camelot's only chance for freedom, Uther's only chance for repentance, and Arthur's only chance for his destiny.  
**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
**Chapter Rating:** PG-13  
**Story Rating:**R  
**Word Count:** 1137  
**Special Notices:** Inspired by 'A Bad Dream' by Keane. Also HUUUUUGE thanks to draig_glas for more or less co-writing this story. She is amazing! XD  
**Disclaimer:**I don't own Merlin, but I do own some maracas. Wanna see?! …you don't. *sigh* Fine, just read the fic, courtesy of Auntie Beeb…

* * *

**Chapter Three  
****A Bad Dream Without You**

"_We sometimes seem to forget that the lesser of two evils is evil nonetheless." – Me  
_

Merlin visited the blond stranger every night without fail. "Are you real?" the man had asked him, and Merlin had been so terribly excited, so exhilarated to finally convince this man that yes, he _was real _and he _did _need his help that when he was awakened by the roar of the beast the blonde's perplexed face still swam in his vision…

* * *

The fires had never burned as high as they did today. Towering trees from the forest were cut down just to fuel the fire. Posts and shackles were forgone as flailing thrashing bodies were simply thrown onto the raging pyre. The now ruby axe fell over and over until the courtyard was flooded with the viscous blood and ashy remains of thousands of sorcerers.

Miles below Camelot, in a cavern pitch as night, the steady drips of blood turned into a gushing torrent. Merlin watched in horror as the beast tripled in size, large as a dragon and ten times as fierce. The balance broke, the blood was no longer needed to fortify the monster and it raged around the cavern freely, lunging with deadly claws the length of Merlin's entire body and teeth as sharp as any knight's sword. A powerful limb flew through the opaque air, smashing brutally into Merlin's ribs. A resounding crack reverberated around the cavern. Face scrunched in anguished pain Merlin forced his great wings up into non-existent air currents, pushing vainly against a vacuum and clawing his way along walls he couldn't see until he tumbled into a cavity, huddling tight and scrambling for spells.

He regretted spending so long learning cleaning charms now.

Drawn up against the wall Merlin noticed for the first time quite how acute the raw stench of blood and flesh really was here. Hands numb with cold and blood and fear he slid them across the slick ground, letting their slightly fainter glow illuminate charred bones and rotting limbs and-

Sour bile rose up in Merlin's throat and exploded from his lips without consent. Crawling along the lurid ground Merlin forced his glow away from Lance's twisted rotten body. Too much. He lay on the icy blood-glossed ground and tried not to breath in the scent of vomit and death and thick evil magic which grew stronger every day. It didn't take a genius – which Merlin wouldn't claim to be – to work out what was happening. The blood of countless victimized sorcerers had blended into one concentrated liquid, tinged with hatred and lust for vengeance against one man; the king of Camelot. And from it this thing, this beast, the monster of odium, had been born.

Shivering against the remnants of his fellow angels, of his _friends_, Merlin struggled against his harsh breaths, straining to stay silent, for Avalon's sake be _silent_! The overpowering reek of death and blood and burning and rotting would conceal his scent from the monster, but any noise would be like a mighty crash of thunder in the cavern and his magic couldn't stand against this beast. Not anymore.

Time almost seemed to grind to a halt. Slowly, slowly, the creature of claret scales and deadly teeth and coal black eyes, darker than the crushing air of the cavern, moved past Merlin's hiding spot. Merlin didn't sleep until the beast did. And this time he truly believed he would never wake.

* * *

The mysterious man that had lingered upon Arthur's dreams was noticeably absent that night. Every single night for the past five days he had been there, urging him to stop The Purge but he hadn't known how, hadn't been able to face his father's raw fury. Now the man – _angel, _his mind whispered - was gone and it terrified Arthur like nothing else. Jerking awake he found himself incapable of drifting into slumber again.

Lying awake, moonlight streaking over his face and pained cries floating through his windows, Arthur wished for the angel to return to him. He never said much, just begged him night after night to end The Purge, to stop the deaths, to make the blood stop flowing. And yet the man's voice was soothing and gentle in a way that relaxed Arthur without fail. How was it possible to miss something that may not even be?

Eyes drooping but refusing to close and surrender Arthur to the bliss of sleep, a new voice, a darker stronger, more gravelly voice, resounded through Arthur's fatigued brain.

_Kill him. Kill the king. Stop their suffering, kill the king._

And he listened. Trance-like Arthur stood, hand reaching blindly for his sword, gripping the hilt tight in a white-knuckled fist. He knew what he was doing. The truth of his soon-to-be actions roiled through his veins ceaselessly and churned in his stomach. Doubt gripped his heart. Maybe he should ask Morgana if the angel had visited her? As far as he knew she had never heard the elusive stranger, but what if tonight was different?

_Foolish boy. You hear their shrieks, they are dying. Uther must die. Kill him!_

Steeling his resolve and tightening his grasp on the cool metal of his sword even more, Arthur stepped into the draughty corridors of the castle, bare feet burning with the icy cool touch of flagstones. Mindless of his inappropriate apparel Arthur strode past guards, men who should have been ready and were failing their sire as they did nothing to stop their entranced prince.

Push on heavy oak, glossy with coat upon coat of lacquer, into the fire-warmed room, logs still blazing in the hearth. The same wood that was ending lives at that very second. The voice was growing restless '_Now! Do it now, stop this! End his life, end the purge! Kill him!_'. That soft voice, his angel, had left him, abandoned him, this was his only choice now.

Silver gleamed high above golden hair and a lone, silent tear slipped down Arthur's cheek as the metal sliced through the air-

-and jarred against nothing. Glancing up, confused and afraid, bright blue eyes met dark warm brown. Guinevere. Her face was written with terror and shock but she continued to tug at the halted sword, prising it away from Arthur's frozen hold. Silently she led him away, yanking him by the arm all the way to Morgana's rooms and easing him in until the door shut softly behind them. Immediately Morgana was on her feet, dressed in her nightgown, the windows on the far wall firmly closed.

"Gwen? What happened? Why have you got Arthur's sword?" In a hushed voice Gwen explained the rather disturbing scene she had happened upon while she gently pushed a pale Arthur into a chair. Aghast Morgana turned to the trembling prince, the glare smouldering in her eyes softening at the sight of the broken prince. Smoothing back the sweat-soaked hair on Arthur's forehead Morgana softly asked Arthur why he would try such a thing – even if Uther was a cold bastard of man.

Turning hurt, vulnerable eyes to his adoptive sister Arthur spoke cryptically, his voice breaking;

"He didn't talk to me tonight Morgana. He wasn't there. Where'd he go?" Without an answer she simply stroked his hair and whispered him to a dreamless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author:** Georgia (Merlin'sGeekyFan)  
**Synopsis:** Camelot is in danger from an unspeakable evil and Merlin never lived to find his prince. Avalon's Enforcers is their only chance now; Camelot's only chance for freedom, Uther's only chance for repentance, and Arthur's only chance for his destiny.  
**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
**Chapter Rating:** PG-13  
**Story Rating:** R  
**Word Count:** 877  
**Special Notices:** Inspired by 'A Bad Dream' by Keane. Also HUUUUUGE thanks to draig_glas for more or less co-writing this story. She is amazing! XD  
**Disclaimer:**I don't own Merlin, but I do own some maracas. Wanna see?! …you don't. *sigh* Fine, just read the fic, courtesy of Auntie Beeb…

* * *

**Chapter Four  
****Cross Our Destinies Sire**

"_Never kill a good man, or face your evil soul. So should I kill an evil soul, will I be a good man?" – Me_

The guards must have been paying more attention than was clear. Only hours after Uther woke he was informed of his son's enchanted appearance the previous night. Soon the freshly scrubbed cobbles were red, painted with Uther's raw impassioned rage; first his wife was stolen from him, snatched from his tender grip before he could blink, and now they were plotting for his son. Never.

***-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-***

Still shuddering amongst the tattered remains of what had once been his living breathing friends, Merlin watched the beast grow unstoppable. Oh how he tried, he pushed his magic to it's limits, weighting the beasts enormous feet, it only thrashed until it threatened to cause a cave in, welding it's mighty jaw shut, it lashed out violently with its enormous claws, blinding it, well what was there to see anyway? Nothing worked and little was left to try.

He couldn't contact the blond man anymore. To do that he had to sleep and to sleep would be to sign his own life away for a second time. One snore, perhaps one restless toss that clacked bones against one another and he would be at the beast's mercy. No he had to stay awake, he would, he must!

Only one plan was even plausible to Merlin's weary mind now. Turning dull gold eyes up to what he assumed was the caverns ceiling Merlin willed it with all his heart to collapse. He would die, but he beast would end with him, Lance would be proud.

A slow sad smile grew across Merlin's dirt smudged face as he heard the first cracks break the crust of the cavern's roof - the first sound of the end of his life. The crumbling noises grew louder but so did a haunting ethereal screech. Eyes snapping open Merlin watched in awed horror as the burgundy monster leapt from their stone prison, through the gaping crack of space that had been rent through the ceiling.

Thoughts became obsolete, action was needed. Ignoring his aching limbs and protesting wings Merlin soared up, up through the quickly sealing crack in the Earth and into the blessedly fresh cleansing air. There was no time for revelry as he rushed on aching wings to the noisy heart of Camelot where the beast stood, thrashing wildly, tearing into buildings and people alike. And there, standing on the balcony and pale as a ghost from shock, stood Uther. The creature growled an odd growl, as if the noise was sticking to its throat and snapped its sword-like teeth at the king, lunging and stretching to tear into the man's flesh. Recklessly Merlin dived down in front of the king, hovering between atrocious man and enraged monster. The creature seemed more annoyed at his appearance than furious as Merlin might have expected. Before he could even cast a protective shield the creature's mighty neck had crashed against his side and he felt his wings bend unnaturally. Black crept into the corners of his eyes as he fell down, down, air soaring against him as hurtled towards the death-lacquered cobbles of Camelot.

***-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-***

Spitting and snarling in utmost pain – the pure unadulterated torture of harming an angel on mortal soil – the monster skulked away, unable to return to its own domain but finding comfort in the dark abandoned southern woods of Camelot.

In the courtyard, terrified peasants flocked around the mysterious glowing, winged man who had so boldly defended their king. He lay silent; body smattered in angry red cuts and deep bruises the colour of storm-clouds. The crowd parted like the red sea as their prince hurried onto the scene, blond hair tousled from all the times he had pushed his hand through it in nerves, blue eyes soaking in the extra-ordinary sight in disbelief.

The angel's – _My angel's, _thought Arthur – blood was flowing thick and fast, sliding closer to the puddles of scarlet that already littered the courtyard. In a snap judgment Arthur hefted the faintly glowing form onto his shoulders, crashing back through the throng and into the physician's quarters where Gaius was already waiting expectantly.

Feeling obsolete now, Arthur watched carefully as Gaius set to work. Snapped wing – quickly splinted like a broken leg would be. Three broken ribs and 2 bruised – bandaged and soothed with healing balms with the practiced ease of learned hands. Enormous cut (although Gaius called it a laceration) slicing across the angel's abdomen – a sickly yellow ointment was applied before yet more bandages were wrapped around pale skin.

Desperate to help in some small way, to pay back the angel for selflessly saving his father, Arthur stood and asked in a hushed, lost tone for a damp rag. Cloth in hand he gently wiped away the dirt and blood that caked the angel's face and arms. He had to rinse the rag six times before he finally cleared away all the grime, leaving the angel's skin paler than white and far more beautiful than the face of his dreams. Together physician and prince watched in fascination as the angel glowed, brighter and brighter still until it became blinding to clap eyes upon him.

And so they waited.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author:** Georgia (Merlin'sGeekyFan)  
**Synopsis:** Camelot is in danger from an unspeakable evil and Merlin never lived to find his prince. Avalon's Enforcers is their only chance now; Camelot's only chance for freedom, Uther's only chance for repentance, and Arthur's only chance for his destiny.  
**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
**Chapter Rating:** PG-13  
**Story Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 1268  
**Special Notices:** Inspired by 'A Bad Dream' by Keane. Also HUUUUUGE thanks to draig_glas for more or less co-writing this story. She is amazing! XD  
**Disclaimer:**I don't own Merlin, but I do own some maracas. Wanna see?! …you don't. *sigh* Fine, just read the fic, courtesy of Auntie Beeb…

* * *

**Chapter Five  
****My Twilight Angel**

"_A leader would sooner die than sacrifice that which he leads." - Me_

Merlin woke to panic clenching about his lungs and burning pain tearing across his body. Unable to hold the noise in he whimpered, desperately hoping the beast was sleeping, that he wouldn't be heard. But no, there were footsteps… oddly quiet footsteps, and a cool damp something soothing at his brow.

Eyelids as heavy as lead he dared to look at his surroundings only to be dazzled by brilliant sunlight streaming in through high up windows. Gritting his teeth and quickly clamping his eyes shut again a weak moan escaped him. At least now he knew the beast would not hear. Whispered instructions to close shutters, the quiet creak of hinges and knocking of wood, everything was a blur in Merlin's pain hazed mind.

Cautiously peeking through a single honey-gold eye, Merlin slumped slightly in relief. The room was blessedly dark now, still as bright as a hundred burning torches in comparison to the intense black of the god-forsaken cavern, but mild on Merlin's scorching eyes. An aging silver-haired man with rather lopsided eyebrows was speaking in hushed calming tones to him, kindly encouraging him to sip some vile smelling – and tasting – liquid the colour of burnt copper. Warmth rushed along his veins as he swallowed the medicine, relaxing his aches and thawing his chilled, shivering bones.

Realising his wing was dangling over the edge of the small bed he was lying upon, Merlin scrunched his brow and tried to lift it to fold beside him only to feel searing pain exploding up and down his spine and shoulders. Sobbing softly Merlin found he didn't even have the energy to jump as chilled, calloused hands smoothed along his sore feathers, softly rubbing his aching wing-frames until the pain ebbed.

"Thank you, for saving my father. Not many would in the current climate." Merlin smiled wryly; so this was the prince. Knowing nothing of Camelot's royalty – nor of anything about the kingdom in all honesty – Merlin just nodded quietly. Broad hands stilled high on the smaller fluffier feathers near the wing joints at Merlin's shoulder blades and the warlock suppressed a shiver at the sensation.

"So…" The prince started haltingly, curious fingers now tracing down to the sleeker longer feathers at the ends of Merlin's wings, "You're really a… an angel. Right?" Snorting amusedly into the blankets, Merlin ignoring the twinge it sent through him.

"What tipped you off, the flying, the glowing, or just how gosh-darn fantastic I am?" A choked guffaw sounded behind him and the prince tugged with careful gentleness at his wings in retaliation.

"So if you're an angel… why are you here with us lowly mortals?"

"I'm mortal too you know. Well, here I am, not in Avalon, but definitely here." Merlin sighed deeply, closing his eyes to the pleasurable feel of long fingers twisting oh so charily through his feathers, who knew that would feel so nice? "A group of us were sent here, nine in total, to destroy that, that _thing_ that attacked your father. The others are dead." Merlin voice turned stony at this last statement, the wound of his friends' deaths still too fresh, too raw to face just yet.

"But then why are you still alive? No offence, but you don't look very strong."

"I'm not, I'm a warlock. The _only _warlock. As far as anyone can remember, I'm the only sorcerer ever to make it to Avalon without losing my magic on the way." A rustle of movement and the prince was crouched in front of him. Peering intently Merlin gasped softly. It was the blond man from his dreams, the one he'd been begging to help him. And now the blond mans sky blue eyes were filled with panic and urgency.

"You must never tell my father, he'll have you killed angel or not!" Merlin couldn't help it; great wracking giggles splintered through his body, igniting pain in his hurt ribs and wing but too far gone to care. He smiled benignly at the baffled prince.

"_Sire_, do not take me for a fool. I know exactly what you father thinks of sorcerers, I would never be quite so stupid as to tell him." The prince's flawless cheeks flooded with rosy pink and Merlin beamed – he was far too cute to be healthy. Joining the prince in his flushing because of his own thoughts Merlin quickly steered the conversation away from such blush-worthy thoughts. He stretched out a pale glowing hand.

"I'm Merlin." Tan skin found Merlin's and the prince shook his hand with the strong grip of trained warriors, calluses no doubt from wielding the sword at his hip.

"Arthur."

***-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-***

Two weeks drifted past and Merlin was quickly growing restless. His ribs were fully healed, his bruises faded to nothing but pale seamless skin again, and the cuts that had criss-crossed his body had scarred to thin white lines, barely visible against his fair skin. Most of his time was spent with Arthur, who he was growing too fond of, far too fond. He had heard of these tragic stories, angel's forced back into Avalon and away from their mortal loves.

But he couldn't find it in him to stop. Arthur was infectious, everything from his charming, almost childish grin, to the sure confident way he parried with a sword, was completely enthralling. Every day would be spent exploring Camelot, Arthur pointing out all there was to see and Merlin smiling sheepishly when his natural glow would alert prey to their presence on hunts. Nights were passed with the two sitting close exchanging tales; Arthur told him all about his favourite pranks against Morgana and Merlin told him about what Avalon was really like. He had even mentioned Lance, but tears had been quick to follow. Silently Arthur had pulled him closer and let him weep, letting the incident pass without embarrassment.

The beast lurked at the edge of the southern woods and Merlin knew deep in his gut that the second his wing healed the beast would return to finish its carnage. He couldn't stall any longer. His wings was aching less every day, he needed to solve this problem before it was too late.

One cloudy night, windows sealed shut to trap the screams that haunted Merlin outside, the angel quietly slipped out of the sleeping prince's rooms, roaming breezy hallways in search of the king. Only the guards at Uther's doors stopped him but they soon let him in, finding it rather ridiculous to be arguing with an angel. Entering the room Merlin saw Uther's head shoot up to meet him and the king smiled gratefully.

"I am in great debt to you sir. I hope I will be able to repay your selflessness one day." Merlin chuckled bitterly – oh if the king only knew what he was about to ask.

"Actually sire, I think you can. This beast, the monster that attacked Camelot will come back as soon as I am fully healed. I may be able to keep it at bay but not for long. There is only one way to kill it."

Uther immediately sat a little straighter, eyes taking on a gleam of hope as they fixed onto Merlin's own lowered golden eyes.

"Anything, I will do anything if it keeps my kingdom safe." Inhale deep, measured breaths, thud of his heart perfectly timed with the thrum of magic coiling through the castle's stonework. Merlin raised sorry eyes to the king.

"You must let the beast kill you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author:** Georgia (Merlin'sGeekyFan)  
**Synopsis:** Camelot is in danger from an unspeakable evil and Merlin never lived to find his prince. Avalon's Enforcers is their only chance now; Camelot's only chance for freedom, Uther's only chance for repentance, and Arthur's only chance for his destiny.  
**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
**Chapter Rating:** R  
**Story Rating:** R  
**Word Count:** 859  
**Special Notices:** Inspired by 'A Bad Dream' by Keane. Also HUUUUUGE thanks to draig_glas for more or less co-writing this story. She is amazing! XD  
**Disclaimer:**I don't own Merlin, but I do own some maracas. Wanna see?! …you don't. *sigh* Fine, just read the fic, courtesy of Auntie Beeb…

* * *

**Chapter Six  
****Camelot's Grief**

"_The quickest way of ending a war is to lose it." - George Orwell_

"_Humans are made to look forward. The war ends and thousands have died, yet we rejoice our freedom as we mourn. We are an amazing specimen." - Me_

Uther was furious. That _angel _had the audacity to serve up Uther's own death to him and expected him to just lay himself down at the feet of the beast? Preposterous! Immediately Uther called for his guards and the angel was thrown into cells, shackled against the wall as he received twenty lashes of the whip. The guard did not hold back. The angel was left, still splayed against the wall by his chains with tears coursing down his cheeks, angry red lines interlacing across the thin pale expanse of his back.

Arthur visited that very same night. He too had been crying, plain to see from his puffy red-rimmed eyes and trembling shoulders, but in those glossy eyes was smouldering anger, utter hatred. Screaming abuse at the angel he spewed ferocious bile before he stalked off with the promise to never forgive Merlin's words. It felt worse than the lashes. He didn't sleep that night, not from the soreness of his bruising wrists or the harsh sting of his bloody wounds but from the emotional sickness that roiled with Arthur's words echoing in his head.

Thirty lashes followed the dawn. Merlin's back was left a red oozing mess, feathers ripped from his wings by the snap of the whip, others stained a dark ruby red from his own flowing blood. The stench was too similar to the cavern and the screams resounding through his cell from the small barred window were driving him to despair.

When cool smooth hands gently lifted Merlin's face the angel couldn't help but wonder if he was hallucinating. But no, there he was, the eccentric but regal Jonathon, one of the most celebrated angel's in Avalon smiling sadly at him and soothing his hurts. The guards soon caught sight of the new angel who glowed with an intensity Merlin couldn't hope to match in his ill state, and they ran for the king who stormed into the cells with an expression of thunder, Arthur rushing behind him, hand readied on the hilt of his sword.

"What is the meaning of this? Are the heavens determined to destroy this kingdom?!" Coldly staring at the flushed face of the king Jonathon answered in that deep calm voice of his that never wavered in the face of any danger.

"Actually sir, I would ask you the same thing. Merlin has told you the solution to your kingdom's plight, why have you not fulfilled this yet?" Uther paled dramatically, all the blood seeping from his face as this much nobler angel confirmed his most terrible fears. Smiling emphatically Jonathon leaned closer, settling a comforting hand upon the king's shoulder as he whispered into his ear.

"Igraine is waiting sire." Uther set his shoulders squarely, standing tall and proud he nodded to the angel who nodded graciously before he disappeared from the room, too seamlessly for anyone to actually see him leave. Skin turning a faintly green hue Arthur watched as his father ordered Merlin's release and the bleeding angel collapsed, boneless to the floor. Shoving past the guards Arthur made to support Merlin's weight when he saw the angel push himself upright with a few graceful flaps of his wings.

"_This beast, the monster that attacked Camelot will come back as soon as I am fully healed."_

The angel's words reverberated in Uther's mind as he stared at the no-longer broken wing, heart pounding a violent tattoo against his ribs.

A terrible unearthly howl rent through the air.

***-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-***

Despite all the pain he'd caused, all the misery and anguish, the endless deaths, Merlin couldn't help but admire how the king held himself in this moment. Striding down the castle corridors, quite literally walking into his own death, the king stood straight backed and strong, face set in determination and not a trace of fear about him. The embodiment of any true king.

In the courtyard there was a scene of pure hell. The creatures burgundy scales harmonized perfectly with the gleaming red that still ran through the cracks of the cobbles. Stormy skies that already spat down cascades of icy rain growled and churned, threatening a fully-blown storm. Uther seemed to nod approvingly of this, as if this was a fitting setting for his final moments. Soaring up into the sky the rain – so cold it burned – sliced at Merlin's tender skin. Arching elegantly around the creatures great thrashing neck Merlin drew its attention and lured its fearsome head down to where Uther waited, head tilted to the rain.

As the creature's jet eyes filled with lustful joy, the promise of Uther's blood finally ending its woeful life Merlin bowled down through the air, sending Arthur and he sprawling across the ground. He couldn't let Arthur see, he wouldn't.

That couldn't stop the noises though. The tearing and snarling and cries of blissful agony as the creature finally dissipated into nothing, _grateful_ to die.

Rain splashed down onto Camelot without pause, the heavens wept with the citizens for their fallen king, a fallible man, and a true leader.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author:** Georgia (Merlin'sGeekyFan)  
**Synopsis:** Camelot is in danger from an unspeakable evil and Merlin never lived to find his prince. Avalon's Enforcers is their only chance now; Camelot's only chance for freedom, Uther's only chance for repentance, and Arthur's only chance for his destiny.  
**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
**Chapter Rating:** PG  
**Story Rating:** R  
**Word Count:** 703  
**Special Notices:** Inspired by 'A Bad Dream' by Keane. Also HUUUUUGE thanks to draig_glas for more or less co-writing this story. She is amazing! XD  
**Disclaimer:**I don't own Merlin, but I do own some maracas. Wanna see?! …you don't. *sigh* Fine, just read the fic, courtesy of Auntie Beeb…

* * *

**Chapter Seven  
****The Kingdom's Guardian**

"_War is the creeping black of night and as it ends the new day will dawn." - Me_

It was with harsh words and angry tears, not sobbing goodbyes and lingering embraces that Merlin left Arthur to face the Avalon council. Arthur, still raw and mourning from the loss of his father, had been livid to hear Merlin was leaving him and would here no word on Merlin's defence. Now back in the familiar crisp air of Avalon's crystalline sky and gliding down to meet the council, Merlin wished for the overcast dreary setting of Camelot. Avalon was not his home anymore.

Standing before the council it struck Merlin how truly impressive they were. There was Jonathon, smiling reassuringly at him with a gleam in his eye that promised he would defend Merlin to the end. The rest of the council was comprised of two flaxen haired beauties of women, and an aging man with wispy white hair but young lively blue eyes that reminded Merlin painfully of Arthur.

"Merlin Emrys, you are guilty of revealing your physical form to mortals." Spoke one of the flaxen haired women, her voice silky smooth yet completely sterile. Merlin bowed his head and did not argue, there was no point. If there had been a manual "How to be an angel" the first rule would undoubtedly have been _never_ to reveal yourself physically to any mortal. It just wasn't done. He'd gone and shown himself to an entire kingdom.

"Usually such crimes would result in removal of your wings and imprisonment," Merlin cringed, this did not bode well at all, "However, in light of Jonathon's _reams _of evidence in your defence we are willing to strike a deal with you." Merlin smiled secretly. By the sounds of it the council had been subjected to Jonathon's more unconventional side, the side of him that was so passionate it bordered on scary. Lifting his head slightly Merlin waited for the woman to continue.

"As Camelot is fully aware of your presence and to erase so many memories would be both time-consuming and dangerous, you are to be assigned to the kingdom as a guardian. Do you have any objections Mr Emrys?" Shaking his head vigorously Merlin felt a grin explode over his face, his eyes glossing with relieved tears.

"Thank you." He whispered, voice choked and broken. The fair haired woman smiled softly down at him.

"It was our pleasure Merlin."

***-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-***

Merlin woke, head pounding and wings twitching impatiently, upon the mossy damp soil of a forest. The canopy above him was doused in cool water which sprayed onto him refreshingly. He was home.

Leaping to his feet and soaring up, up, higher than he had ever dared before, Merlin flew over tiny villages and beautiful scenes of nature at its best, through the pouring rain with only a single name on his tongue and in his mind.

_Arthur._

Barelling down to Camelot Merlin politely shook off the swarm of people offering their thanks to him for ending the beast's rampage – and he couldn't help wondering if they meant the monster or the king – and ran with a single-mindedness unparalleled by any other through the corridors all the way to the king's chambers. No guards. How odd. Bursting inside Merlin was crestfallen to find no one there. But this wasn't right, Arthur was king now, he should be here.

Slumping dejectedly by the post of the canopied bed Merlin wondered what had happened. Was Arthur hurt? Did something happen while Merlin had been in Avalon? If that was the case he would never forgive himself.

"Merlin?" There. There he was, standing in the door of the chambers, staring at Merlin as if he wasn't really there, as if that was too impossible. Springing up Merlin reached Arthur in two long strides and surrounded him in the double embrace of arms and wings, peppering unashamed kisses onto Arthur's face and tasting the salt of dried tears.

Home.

***-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-***

That night Arthur watched the brilliantly glowing angel perched on his balcony. Merlin was staring onto the night, head tilted up despite the slight drizzle that began to fall. Protected and loved, Arthur had never slept better in his life.


End file.
